In Between

It is my birthday weekend. I'm on the train en route to a presentation I will do today. I'm feeling a blend of somber and serene. Do you ever get like that?

I was just sitting here contemplating what I might contribute to Project IF, thinking through those hard questions that always lie right under the surface, and this very pregnant woman ambles down the aisle. Ok no biggie. I'd like to think I don't get wiggy at the sight of bellies. But then the inevitable nosy old lady starts it up, "oh! when are you due? is this your first? boy or girl?" As if its her business and right to know.

"I'm expecting twins. End of August...."

And that's about all I heard before I rammed my earphones in and pushed play. The twin thing. It guts me. This was not what I was planning on writing about today.

**

Did you (do you) ever play a game with yourself where some feat of your amazing skill will determine your fate in a completely unrelated aspect of your life? As in, if I hit this tennis ball 40 times in a row without missing I am the best person in the world....ok starting now...no, that one didn't count, I mean now.....Did I say 40? I meant 20, ok....now!

Do you do that?

That's kind of how I feel as I wait for my 36th birthday. The start of 2009 was supposed to be my start over. From this moment on things will be better. That didn't work out so well. Then it was New Years Eve 2010. Then it was the year marker of Jovi and Isa's presumed birth. Sigh. Ok, why don't we try my birthday - ok....NOW!

Don't get me wrong. Things have gotten better. (insert snark: because they could not have gotten worse.) No, stop. Don't be like that. Things can always, always be worse. You know this. More than that, I think I have reached that point where I just cannot sustain the anger and the grief 24/7 and so there is nothing left to do but put the cup down, wake up and try to live without it for a little bit. Lani says this so much better in a recent post. And as she says, "I'm fine. As fine as I can be."

And really, its more than fine for us. We have had forward motion on the gestational carrier front. Twice actually. After my November BFN (damn, we were so hopeful) and just before the beginning of the year, a friend (a friend of a friend really) called us up and said, this thing you want to do, this life you want to lead, I'd like to help you with that. I think you would make amazing parents and I want to make that happen for you.

!!!!

My faith in humankind was renewed. We had a chance. A hope. A reason. And for a while, we were all pretty high on possibility.

Long story short. It didn't work out. Through no fault of anyone involved. It just didn't work out. And I was gutted.

And then, out of the blogosphere, another (another?!?) amazing woman said, dude, I've got a uterus I'm not using and I would love to help you. I may not even be paraphrasing.

Starstruck in love and admiration that's how I felt (feel) about this person. Completely humbled that someone (two people?!?!?) would even contemplate such an act, such a well, inconvenience to give us a chance to be parents to a real, live living baby.

Another not so long story short, there are a few more assurances our RE wants before we can move forward. I cringed at the thought of approaching this super lady and saying, oh hey, in your spare time between raising your own family and working and life can you go do this, this and this and did I mention one of those things is slightly invasive? Please?

And she said, sure. I'm on it. So she is in the midst of scheduling appointments.

But oh, the waiting.

This Waiting. This stasis. This Limbo. This constant state of "we're moving forward! We're gonna try! Oh scratch that, we're not" is, as Lani says, so fucking wearing. (ok, the expletive is mine.) For all of us. I think I speak for all of us (me, M., awesome woman, her incredibly supportive and cool husband) now when I say we'd really like to get the show on the road. With all of this waiting there has been just enough time for some what ifs to creep back in. At least for me:

What if our RE says NO? What if we can't move forward? Then what? Then what.....

**

In these childfree and limbo times, there are days when we (now meaning me and M) function almost as well as we used to. Days where we laugh and scheme and plot together. Just the other day we were scheming about a trip to a really far away place to do a really cool thing, something we haven't done since embarking on this babymaking journey 3 long years ago. We seem to be approaching normalcy, as normal as one can be. To an outside observer, we are living full and vibrant childfree lives. Look! They do whatever they want! They go places. They do things. How cool!

There are moments when I even convince myself.

But then I sneak a peak at a facebook page I shouldn't have, I accidentally click on a link or a document I've saved all about pre-natal something or other, I let my thoughts wander, oh Christ the longing is immobilizing. When this happens I can't even stand myself. I have to hope it passes before M gets home so I don't infect him too.

I have to learn to live with the limbo. The stops and starts. No one said this would be smooth sailing. Buck up! I tell the internal me. This is life, baby. It ain't easy.

- But why is it so much easier for other people?

- How do you know it is?

-I don't. Sigh. I don't.



But I have a hunch.

First I was fine

but now, not so much.

I don't know how the day shifted. Right from under me. And actually, as I type this, it has shifted back. Right back to fine.

Last night I drank mulled wine. Decorated the tree. Lingered a long time on the ornaments with some of the only images of the girls that we have.

Do I put them up? How does this make me feel? Do I want to be looking at these every day? I asked M. Do these things make you happy or sad? He said keep them up. He said both.

Yes. Both.

I did the tree. Because when else can you bring an 8 foot piece of the forest into your home and have it be ok? We agreed it is one of the things about the holidays we like a lot.

Tree is up. Lit. Pretty. Now the stockings. No sorry. Can't do it. The image of two stockings - even if they are ostensibly for M and me - hanging in expectation on the mantle is simply too much. No. This I can't do. Those went back in the box.

Lights yes. Stockings no. Tree yes. Cards maybe. Presents - fuck. Presents.

Maybe this is what started it. Anxiety around presents. What to get. Who gets its. Wait. We are close to broke. Now what? Thoughts return to perhaps just skipping Xmas altogether.

No. No. Can't do that. I mean, you can, but Angie said it so well:

"It is like falling off a bicycle, we cannot skip the holiday this year, or we will every year."

I do believe she's right.

But somewhere amidst the wine and the lights and the balls and the baubles I remembered, "this time last year I was full-on pregnant. Blissful. Happy. Beyond happy." By this time a week from now, all of that had changed.

And within that quick realization, that split second, the lights seemed accusatory, the baubles gaudy, the stockings already shoved back in the crate just plain cruel.

I have tried with all my might to avoid the "if only's" and the "if they were's..." and even the "this time last year's...." but they are flooding my brain today and won't go away. Not even some basic yoga postures soothe. They just bring tears.

And then Michael picks me up off the ground, demands a hug, we go back to the kitchen and get coffee and I am back to being fine. Just like that. The phone rings an email comes in, a workman knocks at the door and the haze reshuffles and moves away for a bit. Until the next time.

I think, as so many of you have already warned, I am just going to have to take these waves as they come. Let them happen. Despite all of my logic and rationalization, this week DOES feel different than the rest of the year. It IS different. It just is.

M has off today. I am working from home - not by choice - every once in a while our office tries to see if we can function away from the physical building and if anyone will notice. Its our "emergency testing" plan. Yesterday this was awesome. I needed the peace. Today I'm am in desperate need for distraction. So I am getting dressed and running some errands with my husband. I am walking away from the phone and the computer for a while and hoping no one notices. But if they do, well it just doesn't matter that much.

How to Remember Something We'll Never Forget?

There is a short, sweet, completely non-controversial email in my inbox that I have been ignoring for over a month now.

Hey! How are you? We're booking a show near [your city] and wanted to let you know. It's Dec. 5 at the [pretty cool pub]. Had a blast the last time we were with you. Would love to see you both again.

This is from a band that we love. One whose sound is that wall of noise and distortion that somehow creates melody that I embrace. One that we cannot believe hasn't broken into the big time yet. And its true. The last time they were in our city, we had a great time. We kicked ourselves when we realized they were staying in a crap motel when we have space to spare. We promised ourselves the next time they came around, we would open our home to them. They have no idea how much their last show meant to us. Or that the last time we saw them was one of the first times we had actually emerged from the apartment in over a month.

They had no idea that our babies had just died.

They had no idea I was even pregnant. So how would they know that December 5 is such a loaded day. That is the day Isa and Jovi were born. And died. The most horrific 24 hours I have ever experienced. The day that changed our lives forever. One that we alternately try to hold forever in our memory and one we try to forget.

So, this email is simply marked as unread. And I'm feeling awful about it. It's weighing on my mind. There's no veiled "can we crash at your place?" request. There's not even an obligation to respond. But I have to. I need to.

So what's our plan? Do we set aside December 5 as a day of mourning? Write back and say, gosh guys, we won't be around. Sorry to miss you? Do we spend yet another 24 hours wallowing in our grief and self-pity?

But dudes, we do that every day. Do we really need to set aside another date on the calendar dedicated to remembering?

It's not like we are ever going to forget.

I've had this discussion with M. a few times now. And I think as the day gets closer we are on the same page on this one. What would our response be if the girls were alive? I think it would be Bring on the Fucking Band. There might have been a few moments showing off our beloved kids before shuttling them off to grandparents. If the girls were here, we would not be afraid to just live. Like we always have.

So where is it written that we need to spend their birthday bathed in tears? I'm not saying a few won't emerge. Christ, we are only human. And I do seem to be waxing nostalgic as the leaves start to fall and I'm reminded of the quiet evenings I spent pregnant last year indulging myself in take out and bad TV while M was covering local football games. Good times, man, truly good times....

But I cannot wait for some mystical sign to tell me its ok to start living again. I can't hold on to this grief-haze for the rest of my life. If I behave like a normal human being it doesn't mean I'm not hurting. And perhaps it's selfish of me to assume that others around me aren't?

On December 5th we will open our home. Open our hearts. Maybe we'll tell our friends about the year we've had. Maybe we won't. Maybe we'll confess that the time before the last time we saw them, we were in the midst of the two-week wait for the positive test that gave us the girls. So hopeful, so happy...Maybe they'll bring us that same luck this time around.

Are you Sure?

It is so funny how pieces of life randomly collide. I got a call from my old social worker yesterday morning (old as in, was my social worker 20 years ago when I had cancer). He had seen my testimony on TV and couldn't stop talking about it! Not only that, but he shared it with my pediatric oncologist and all of my old nurses, one of whom is apparently in charge of the statewide association for pediatric oncology nurses. Besides all of this being very sweet and surprising and flattering, he extended an invitation to come speak to the nurses association - about my current line of work and also about survivor issues.

Are you sure? I said. Because I have a lot to say.

This same social worker couldn't remember that the last time we talked was back in March when we were looking for recommendations for egg donation programs. In fact, he sounded surprised and pretty fascinated when I gave him a quick update of where we were in the process. I am sure it was probably too much information for him, but hey, I wanted to give him a preview of my talk with the ladies.

So, a completely unrelated incident that just happened to be televised has just opened the door for me to work with pediatric oncology nurses to help them try to understand some pretty serious issues facing childhood cancer survivors - infertility being #1 on the list. I am pretty stoked about that.

Re: dinners, I will be hosting one tonight at our house. It's my dad's birthday and my parents are in town after a brief stint at the hospital for dad. Pneumonia. Perhaps I haven't mentioned but my parents' health is not great. Dad's lungs are absolutely shot after 4 decades of chain smoking. Frankly, I was shocked that he made it through all of this moving business without ending up in the hospital. This bout struck while he was in Delaware, moving some stuff into storage down there and relaxing for a few days in their temporary home. My last call to him interrupted him flirting with the nurses at his favorite clinic. Reason #33 for them to move to Delaware. Apparently, the hospital food isn't too shabby in this clinic either. Anyways, his birthday gives us a nice reason to get together while they're in town. And I prefer to control the menu. My place it is.

Lastly, got a random call from a doctor from our clinic last night. One that we hadn't worked with before. Apparently, she is part of the "committee" that met yesterday to discuss our decision to move forward with our donor after a failed stimulation attempt. She wanted to hear again our reasons for doing so, so I gave her the run down - the same one you've read here. Perhaps I came across as defensive, but I wanted her to be clear that we were clear. We understood the risks and appreciated their desire to be sure that we were sure. I asked her if the committee had reservations or if they as medical professionals had information or knowledge that we didn't. Basically, I asked, did they see this as a fool's errand?

She said emphatically not and the committee was surprised that the previous cycle hadn't worked since the donor is otherwise healthy and the mother of two healthy children. After we talked, she said she was glad we had the conversation and that they had worked out a new protocol for our donor, one that would let them (and us) know almost immediately whether a stimulation would be successful or not. I am expecting a call from Nurse this afternoon to review the new protocol and schedule, which, of course, I will post as soon as I know.

Ohmmmm....

I am in serious need of an attitude adjustment.

My eye has almost completely healed; vision is restored. The scab on my shin from my first (and only) encounter with the treadmill has faded. My outside is returning to normal. My inside is what feels rotten. I am trying for some inner peace here (remember: happy home, happy home...) but EVERYONE ELSE IS MAKING IT VERY HARD.

For example, I just got an email saying that we are celebrating a co-worker's birthday during our already interminably long staff meeting today. Instead of saying to myself, "oh. yay. cake." My first response is a grumble and a groan, thinking, I don't have time for this. I have things to do and this means my afternoon will be totally consumed by this frigging meeting.

What the hell is wrong with me? Every email I open this morning generates some sort of snarl or snarky internal comment from me. And it's not just work-related. And it's not just this morning. I think I have been scowling (in between squints) for at least a week now. If I make this ugly face for much longer, will it stay this way?

Ok, if the phenomenon is so widespread, perhaps its not all of humankind that's the problem here. Maybe, just maybe, it's me.

Sweet, sweet hubby finally laid it out for me last night: "You have got to stop thinking about your parents. Just stop it. They are adults, right? They can make their own choices, right? Have you ever, ever in your life made a decision that they thought was foolhardy and/or ill-advised?"

Well, yes. (friends reading this post can just take a moment and chuckle thinking back to some of my many ill-advised moments. I did.)

Did they let you? Did they trust that you would work it out?

Yes.

Would it be so hard for you to grant them the same respect?

Well, no but.....

And here is where I start pointing out all of the errors in their thinking and how they could be making a huge mistake and here is where hubby says,

Do you even realize how condescending you are being right now?

Ouch. No. I guess I hadn't.

So, as of today, I must be nothing but positive and affirming for them. The decision has been made. The house is sold. The movers are arranged. I have said my peace. But now I have a panicked mother filled with second thoughts. There is nothing for them to do but look forward to their new home (wherever that will be) and try to enjoy their old age. Sure it's sad leaving a home you built 40 years ago and some tears are definitely allowed, but they are not the only people in the world that have sold their house. If I am a semi-decent daughter, I will help them come to these conclusions.

So, that brings me to affirmation #1: I WILL not worry about my parents.

And the rest follows in no specific order:

#2: I WILL get pregnant. My donor will be ok. (she came in a little low for her reading yesterday)

#3: I WILL write at least an hour a day, finish our book and that book WILL get published.

#4: I will be positive in my outlook and my thoughts. I will greet each person with a smile.

And in the case of my co-worker, wish her a very, very happy birthday.

Today

Is my birthday! And although I have been swamped with work, I know today is going to be a great day.

So much has transpired since my last post - some good (like my birthday and forward progress with the ED process), some horrific (like last week's Supreme Court ruling) and some just emotionally draining (like my "why didn't you tell me" adoption meltdown/confrontation with the 'rents). Oy vey. So much to say, so much to talk about!

But right now I am scrambling to put together my 10:30 presentation for work. After that, I will be busy counting the hours to my birthday bash (last hurrah?). AFTER that, I will blog and blog and blog.